A Dame Distressed In The Night
by blacksouledbutterfly
Summary: AU. Rachel Berry is a twenty-two year old virgin and intends to stay that way for a while. Though she starts to reconsider those plans when she meets the older Noah Puckerman, bodyguard to a star she works with on Broadway.


Rachel Berry has never been a real fan of either tattoos or very 'hardcore' guys. She's never had a problem with them really but they've never done anything for her. She knew that a lot of girls her age had things for tough guys or guys with tattoos. Also a lot of girls her age were quite highly sexual so it was pretty strange that at twenty-two she was still a virgin which most people balked at. They didn't understand how she could have stayed a virgin for so long. But that was just who she was. She was simply not the type of person to take sex that casually. And she honestly didn't think that there was anything wrong with that.

But she's never really been the type of girl to have a thing for guys with tattoos. That sort of changed in the most unexpected situation.

Rachel had gotten a small role in a Broadway play and on the night the leading lady performed her last show they had a huge party. Well, the actress had a huge party. The entire cast was invited and so Rachel found herself going. It's the first time she's ever been invited to a big party like that and she does her best to look nice but she feels like she looks plain and boring in comparison to the others even in her tight red dress. But she's not used to those fancy parties so she just has to deal with not looking as good as the other women might.

She actually spends most of her night just watching everyone else. Amber, the leading lady, looks absolutely stunning in her short, tight black dress. She's all long legs and flowing hair with bright eyes. She's actually one of the most amazingly beautiful women that Rachel has ever seen and a part of Rachel can't help but feel like she looks even plainer in comparison. But aside from that she still feels flattered that she was invited. She's barely anyone when it comes to the play so she hadn't expected an invite. Watching Amber flit around and talk to her guests makes her feel like she's watching a diplomat or a princess of some sort. She's not exactly star struck. She just looks at her as an example of who she wishes she could one day be. She's not sure, however, that she'll ever be as graceful as Amber is. She hopes she can be though.

She has to admit that she rather enjoys looking at everyone standing there in their fancy clothes, drinking expensive mixed drinks and trying their best to mingle with everyone. She feels like an outside looking in but for once it doesn't upset her any. She doesn't feel bad about it like she might have when she was in high school. She actually rather enjoys watching them, like she's a reporter who has been brought there to cover an event.

It's not until she's been there for an hour that she actually notices someone there that doesn't seem to fit in because she's so enamored with how beautiful all the others look. But she finally notices a man that is out of place. His back is to her so she can't see his face but he's wearing one of those black wife beater shirts and she can see the edges of a tattoo on his shoulders, dark black lines that she can't make out because the rest of it is covered by his shirt. And he's out of place because of the fact that no one else is dressed like that. No one should be dressed like that at a party such as that. And he's moving around the party like he's Amber's shadow, all broad shoulders and thick arms.

When he turns slightly and she can see his profile he's got a nice strong jaw and nice cheekbones. Even in that light he has hazel eyes and they're pale, they're nice. He's actually rather attractive. She tries not to actually watch him but she can't help it. He moves around like he owns the place. He moves around like he's trying to stand between Amber and the rest of the world. It's actually sort of amazing. But she isn't really sure what to think about that. She normally would think he seems like a protective boyfriend but there's something about her that says he's something else.

"Bodyguard."

Rachel turns her head slowly to look at Santana. She's standing there in a tight pink dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, her smooth, almost flawless skin looks so amazing Rachel can barely stand it. She's the wardrobe manager of the play and despite Rachel being a small part of the play Santana has always been rather nice to her. Or as nice as Santana gets because she's not exactly the nicest person by nature. She takes a sip from her glass and manages to look regal even while doing that and then she smiles at Rachel, the sort of seductive smile that she's so very good at. "I see you watching him," she tells Rachel, an almost predatory gleam in her eyes. "I can't blame you. He's not even close to my type but even I can admit he's rather attractive. I'm over that phase though." It's well-known that Santana is interested in the fairer sex so that statement comes as no surprise. "But anyway, he's her bodyguard."

"Bodyguard? Why does she need a bodyguard?"

"You know that she's heading to L.A., right?" Of course Rachel does. How could she not? It's been made known that she's not going to be their leading lady any longer because she got a pretty big part in a movie that's going to start to film soon. But there's no need to be sarcastic or to point it out in a rude way. Instead she just looks at Santana and nods a little. "Well, a few weeks back she got a few really strange notes. Seems she's gotten herself a rather insane stalker and she'd rather not take the risk so she hired him to be her bodyguard. Today's his last night since she's leaving tomorrow."

"Oh." She's not really sure what to say to that so she just looks at Santana and then back at the man in question before she looks back at Santana who just keeps on giving her that smile as she walks away. Rachel's not quite sure what that smile is supposed to mean and yet she still doesn't want to actually question it because it will just make her feel silly and awkward. Instead she just takes a sip of her drink and tries to keep her gaze off of the man she's been watching.

She tries to remain quiet for the rest of the night, tries to just wander around and keep looking at everyone in a slightly strange way. She tries her best not to look at the bodyguard because she doesn't want to be strangely obvious about it though apparently she _has_ been obvious because Santana noticed. But she just doesn't want anyone else to notice that she's looking at him. It could get embarrassing and ridiculous.

The night starts to wind down and everyone is starting to go home so Rachel decides that it's time to leave. She makes her way towards the bedroom where she put her coat, her glass still in her hand. She's barely had anything to drink that night but she only did that because she apparently gets embarrassing when she's drank too much and she doesn't want to end up embarrassing herself in front of all of those people. So she just keeps the glass in her hand until she can get her coat and then she plans on just putting the glass down on the table near the door.

She's rounding the corner that leads into the bedroom where the coats were all being kept when she dumps into someone, she bumps into them hard. She almost drops her glass but instead the alcohol just spills all over her dress and all she sees in front of her is a wall of black. She almost loses her balance from the force of how she ran into whoever it is but she catches herself at the last second and manages to right herself.

When she finally looks up she finds herself face to face with the bodyguard that she's basically been watching all night. He's looking down at her with his eyebrows furrowed. He looks unsure what she should say or do. But then he just reaches out and takes her glass out of her hand and looks her over. "Sorry about your dress." His voice sort of really shocks her. It's not exactly what she would have thought his voice would sound like. She can't explain what she was expecting but it wasn't the sound that was coming out of his mouth.

"What? Oh." She looks down at her dress and looks at the way the alcohol is seeping into her dress. She's not sure if that's going to ruin the dress or not but there's really nothing that can be done about that. She can't reverse that she had spilled her drink. So instead she just sort of shakes her head a little, swallows a bit hard. "Oh, it's alright." What can she do? Be mad at him for bumping into her and accidentally spilling her drink all over her? It doesn't make any sense.

She can sort of feel his eyes on her, skimming over her body though she's pretty sure that he's looking at the dress and the way the drink is seeping into the fabric more than anything. She can't help but want to squirm under his gaze though. She stops herself from doing so though because the last thing she wants to do is embarrass herself any further. Bumping into him and spilling the drink all over herself was embarrassing enough. She doesn't need to make it worse for herself. "Too bad. You look nice in that dress."

She isn't sure how to take that compliment. She's not even sure if it really is one or something that he's just saying to make her feel better. It could be either. Maybe he's just trying to be nice and make her smile. It's still a nice thing to say though and she mumbles a thank you even as she looks at him, bites down on the inside of her bottom lip so that she doesn't end up blushing at the sort of compliment. He nods slightly towards the bedroom, his face remaining basically empty. "Which coat is yours? I'll grab it for you."

"Oh. Red trench coat." She knows it's sort of silly- red dress, red coat, black shoes. She had only worn the black shoes because she knew she had to break up all the red. Too much red and she'd look a little bit ridiculous.

The man nods just a tiny bit, nods slightly and steps into the room while she looks down at her dress, tries to decide if it's even worth trying to get it cleaned. She can always buy a new dress if she needs to but she's not quite sure if she wants to give up on it yet. She actually really likes that dress. She's still looking down at it though when he comes back and holds her coat out to her. "Do you want to try to clean that up?"

"I think the damage is pretty much done." She takes the coat from his hand, her fingers brushing against his. It sort of sends this strange feeling to the pit of her stomach and she can only imagine that's because he's rather attractive. Why else would she actually get that feeling in the pit of her stomach? It has to absolutely be because he's attractive. But she really tries not to show it. She'd rather not embarrass herself.

Pulling on her coat she tries her best not to let the front of it hit the wet spot on her dress. She doesn't want to actually ruin the coat on top of the dress. That's the last thing she needs, to ruin another pieces of clothing in the process. Not that she can change that she ruined that one piece already. "It's just a dress."

"Still." She's not really sure what he means by that but she just ends up looking up at him like she's waiting for him to say something else. Not that she actually expects him to say anything else. Why would he? It's not as though they know each other. She just literally bumped into him on the way in to get her coat. "What's your name?"

"My name?" She tries her best not to look surprised but she _is_ surprised that he's asking her name as he has absolutely no reason to ask her name. No reason whatsoever. "Rachel." She has no reason to hide her name. It's not something that's stupid and ridiculous, hiding your name.

"Well, Rachel, see about getting that dress fixed up. If it can be saved, send me the bill. If it can't, I'll pay for a new one. It wouldn't have been ruined if I hadn't bumped into you." Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a card and holds it out to her and for a moment she can only look at the rather attractive man in the leather jacket that's holding the card out to her. And when she finally takes it he gives her this sort of smirking smile and steps around her to walk down the hall.

Looking down at the card her eyebrows come together in confusion. "Puck?"

"That's my name." It's all he says as he walks away from her. She just keeps on looking at the card for a while before she sticks it into her pocket and decides to go home. She should shower to get rid of the feeling of the alcohol on her skin.

* * *

The dress is helplessly ruined. She brought it to the drycleaner to see if she could salvage it but she hadn't actually thought it could be fixed. As soon as she finds out about that she just sits on the table and looks at the card that the bodyguard had given her for a long while before she decides that calling him is silly. She doesn't need him to pay for a new dress. Why would she? She can live without that dress. She has others. And she can replace it on her own. She doesn't make a lot of money with her role in the play but that doesn't mean she can't afford to buy herself new clothes.

It's been two weeks since the party and Amber has already found her way to Los Angeles. Her best friend in the production came in a week ago and told them all that Amber got there perfectly safe. She's apparently going to contract herself a new bodyguard just in case her stalker had decided to follow her. She has no reason to make the one she had in New York follow her out there. And even though she's never been very close to Amber she's glad to hear that she's alright. She may never have been close to her but it doesn't mean she wants something bad to happen to her either. Why would she? If she did then she'd have to be a horrible person.

She goes about her time trying to pretend that the silly incident with her dress never happened and that she has never met that bodyguard that seems to be filling her thoughts. She wishes that he wasn't so attractive because if he wasn't then she wouldn't be thinking of him as much as she is. It's hard not to think of attractive men when you're alone and single. What single girl _doesn't_ think about attractive guys sometimes when they're alone at night? No sane girl, that's for sure.

She's at the theater early so that she can practice her lines though she's run them about a million times before. She's always nervous and she's always anxious when it comes to performing because she knows that she has to perform quite well then she'll never get the chance to actually get a better role in a play. It's all a game of skill on Broadway and she always has to refine her skills. She knows that. She's not stupid enough not to. So she goes to the theater early enough that she could actually end up practicing without the other people there to watch her.

She's so wrapped up in what she's doing she barely notices the sound of someone walking across the stage. Why would she notice that? It's not as though she's expecting to have someone come up on the stage like that. She never gets interrupted when she's there at that time of day. The only people that tend to be there are the wardrobe people making sure everything is ready for later that night and they don't venture onto the stage. So the sound goes unnoticed by her. Until she hears a voice say, "You're pretty good."

She feels as though her heart jumps into her throat. She turns around quickly, her hair hitting her in the face, her heart hammering in her chest. It takes her a moment to realize that she's looking at the same bodyguard that she had met at Amber's party. He's standing there with his arms folded over his chest, a sort of amused look on her face with the way she reacted to hearing his voice. It actually seems to amuse him to no end and she has to admit she's quite surprised to see him there. She can't see why he'd be there when the girl he was protecting isn't there anymore. "You never called about the dress."

Was he serious? He was showing up at the theater because she didn't call him about the dress? It wasn't something she could understand really. She tried to but she couldn't. Her dark eyebrows just furrowed as she looked at him, her head cocking slightly to the side. "I didn't think it was that important. I figured it wasn't worth calling you about. It can't be fixed but…I don't need a replacement."

"Right." He looks her over, watches her standing there in her little skirt and her little blouse like she's the oddest girl he has ever seen and she supposes since he's been spending a lot of time around the very glamorous Amber as of late that shouldn't surprise her. She was definitely not as glamorous as that woman. She must look a little bit silly to him. "Well, if you don't want me to replace the dress then at least let me buy you some coffee. You can do that, right?"

"Coffee?"

"Yes, coffee. A hot caffeinated drink. I assume you know what that is."

"Of course I do."

"And do you _drink_ coffee?"

"Well, yeah. I drink coffee."

"Great. So, then let me buy you some."

"I…" For a handful of seconds Rachel just stands there, licks her bottom lip in a very awkward manner, her eyebrows furrowed. She's not quite sure what she wants to do, what she _should_ do. She should turn him down but it seems rude when he came all the way out to the theater to talk to her. He didn't have to do that. So it feels like it might be rude to actually tell him that she wouldn't go out with him for coffee. It's just coffee, after all. It wouldn't be that difficult. Or it _shouldn't_ be that difficult. "Alright. I guess."

"Get your coat then."

His words could sound rude only they don't. Not really. It just sounds more like a suggestion only she doesn't really consider it a suggestion. It seems more like a gentle, prodding sort of order. But it's not a rude order so she can't even bring herself to be mad. Instead she just hesitates for a few moments before she moves over to get her coat from where she left it just off stage and pulls it on. Pulling her hair out from underneath the neck of her coat she watches him, pulls her purse onto her shoulder and looks at him and motions just slightly to tell him that he can lead her to wherever she was thinking of taking her.

Where he takes her isn't very far at all. Just a couple of blocks. It's a little coffee shop she's been to maybe half a dozen times before when she was going to or was coming from the theater. She drops her coat down onto the back of a chair at one of the tables and she sits down, gives him a quickest and briefest of answers as to what she wants to drink and then watches him as he puts his own coat onto the back of the chair opposite of her. She watches him walk over to order the coffee, watches his shoulders move beneath his wife beater, watching the lines that she can see of his tattoo rippling and moving. It makes her curious as to what it is that he actually has tattooed on his back.

She keeps quiet when he comes back. She just takes the coffee cup from him, takes a sip, is sort of pleasantly surprised that she got her order right. She has to admit she's mildly uncomfortable with the way he's slouched down in the chair across from her watching her with a quiet intensity she's never been watched with before. She's not sure how she should feel about it other than uncomfortable. She doesn't really think that there's anything wrong or anything bad going on. She doesn't feel like he's doing it to make her uncomfortable. But that doesn't stop her from feeling a tiny bit anxious. It's not until he rolls his shoulders a little and clears his throat that she lets herself breathe because it means they're going to talk. Or, well, he's going to talk. And talking is so much better than a long, sort of awkward silence. "How old are you Rachel?"

"Why?"

"Call me curious."

Rachel bites her tongue against saying something about curiosity being a dangerous thing at times. She doesn't think it's very important. She just shifts a little in her seat. "Twenty-two." She doesn't see any reason to _lie_ about her age. Why would she lie about it? She's not ashamed of her age or anything.

"A baby," he teases and she almost blushes. _Almost_.

"And you?"

"You want to know my age." He sounds so very amused by all of that. She's not really sure why he's amused by the fact that she wants to know his age. She could ask but it seems pretty silly and pointless. He has a way about him that makes her doubt he would actually answer her anyway. There's no reason to believe that he will. "Twenty-eight. I suppose that makes me _old_ compared to you."

"Not old, no." She wouldn't necessarily consider him old but she has to admit she definitely expected him to be at least that much older than her. She isn't sure how old she thought he was though. She just knew he was older than her. Several years older actually. "If twenty-eight is old that's a little bit sad, isn't it?"

"I suppose so."

She talks a big sip of her coffee as she watches him, tries to decide what to say to him. She's not sure what she should say. She knows nothing about him except that he was playing bodyguard to Amber and now that apparently he's twenty-eight years old. Six whole years older than her. But then a question comes into her head and she furrows her eyebrows as she puts the cup in her hand back down. "What kind of a name is Puck?" It's not a name that you hear every day. She actually can honestly say she's never actually heard someone with that name. It's very Shakespearean and she can't imagine anyone actually naming their son after the character even if they were a very big fan of his work.

"It's a nickname." When she just arches an eyebrow at him he sort of smiles at her, shakes his head like he's amused by her. "For my last name. My name is Noah Puckerman. Puck just goes better."

"With your profession, you mean?"

"With me." She seems to want to ask him what he means by that but to her credit she doesn't. But her eyebrows draw together again in confusion, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly, her head cocking slightly to the side. It's a classic sign of someone being confused and possibly holding something back. It only seems like she could be holding back wondering why he said what he just said. "I'm going to say one more thing about this and then I'm not going to say anything else about it. So you can ask whatever you want but I'm not going to answer you." He pauses for a moment and just watches her for a moment. "I don't like my first name. I don't use it. No one except my mother calls me by my first name."

Rachel wants to ask him why he doesn't like his first name but she doesn't since he seems like he won't be answering her. He said he wasn't going to be answering any questions about the subject. She really _does_ want to know why he doesn't like his name though. She thinks Noah is a perfectly lovely name. But she supposed everyone doesn't have to like their names. She's met many people before that use stage names because they don't really like their real names. She likes it though. She can't help but like it though she can't explain why. Something does strike her when she hears his name though. "You're Jewish?" Puckerman just strikes her as a Jewish name. She could be wrong though.

"I am." He says it so casually that she almost laughs out loud but he doesn't see any reason not to say that he's Jewish. It's not like he's ashamed of his religion. He's actually very proud to be Jewish. He may not go around advertising it or anything but he is definitely proud to be Jewish. Saying that he's Jewish, however, doesn't really do anything in his line of work. The people he protects don't care if he's Jewish or not. "Why do you ask?"

"Curious." That's a lie though. Not a huge lie but it's still a lie. "I'm Jewish," she explains after a moment. "I was just curious, that's all." She isn't lying about that though. She was just sort of curious about whether or not he was Jewish because she happened to be. Why shouldn't she be curious? Curiosity isn't that bad of a thing as long as you don't cross a line. And she doubted asking if he was Jewish was considered crossing a line. "I have another question."

"I might have an answer. Depends on the question."

"Your tattoo. I'm curious about what it is."

"Do you want to see?" When her eyes widen he chuckles under his breath and takes a long drink out of his coffee cup. "Oh, don't look so fucking shocked. It's not like I asked you if you wanted to go into the bathroom and fuck. All I did is ask if you wanted to see what the tattoo is. It's not inappropriate. No need to act like it was." It's sort of amusing though. She looks really adorably scandalized by him suggesting she could see his tattoo. It's not as though he'd have to strip naked for her to be able to see it.

"I just….no, it's not necessary. I don't need to see your tattoo."

"I didn't ask if you _had_ to. I asked if you _wanted_ to see it. Big difference, babe." Her eyes sort of widen just a tiny bit and then her skin starts to color just a little bit and it's actually sort of really adorable. He doesn't usually use the word 'adorable' for girls but that one sort of fits her. Only she's not just adorable. He has to admit that she looked hot in a way he can't really explain in that little red dress she was wearing to the party. He doesn't know why she's blushing though and it just makes him smile. The smile that spreads across his face is very amused and he cocks his head slightly to the side as he looks at her. "Why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing." But she _is_ blushing. She can't genuinely deny that but she wishes she wasn't. She feels silly and ridiculous for blushing because there's no real reason for her to be blushing. He didn't say anything rude or perverted or anything of the sort. But it was just weird for him to call her 'babe'. She doesn't really think it means anything but she can't help but find it very strange. She's never had anyone call her that before unless she was dating them. The way he said it though makes her feel like he calls women that constantly so she tries not to take it to have anything to do with her.

He wants to tell her that she's definitely blushing but he's sure she's already aware of that. How could she not know she was blushing? But pointing it out would actually just end up making her blush more. He's sure of that even with knowing her such a short period of time. But part of his job is that he has to learn to read people. At least decently. He's not exactly a huge expert or anything but that doesn't mean that he can't read people at least decently enough. "You really don't want me to replace the dress?"

"It's unnecessary. I have other dresses. It's not such a big deal that it's ruined. I'll definitely live."

"Well, there has to be something I can do. I can tell that the dress definitely cost more than the coffee." He's not an expert on female clothing by any means- he's never had a reason to see how much the stuff costs- but he knows without a doubt a cup of coffee doesn't really come close to the cost of a dress. Any dress. He'd have to be stupid to think otherwise. "So, name it. Name something I can do."

"I don't really need you to do anything."

"I didn't say you needed me to. But I'm at least half responsible for the loss of the dress. The least I can do is try to help you replace it in some way and since you won't let me buy you a new dress then you can let me do something in place of actually getting you a new dress. You seem like you might like logic. It's in the way you dress. All prim and proper. Clean lines and every hair in place. Your makeup is subtle but there. It's natural so you don't want to seem too in your face about it. It all screams logic. And logic says I should do something to pay you back for helping to ruin your dress."

"I don't really know if there's anything you _can_ do…"

"There's absolutely nothing that you need help with? I really doubt that. A single girl living in New York? And don't say you're not single. Your body language screams it. There's nothing wrong with that. I'm just saying that it's not hard to read that you're single. It means you must have something that you could use some help with. It'll make us even, at least."

Rachel purses her lips a little and tries to consider what she should say. She isn't really sure that there's anything she can ask him for. In a way she sort of figures that she can trust him since he works as a bodyguard and if Amber could trust him enough to hire him to keep her safe then she doubts that he's dangerous but that's not the issue. She isn't sure what she can tell him that he can help her with. He seems pretty determined though to do something to help her. It's sort of sweet but it doesn't mean that she knows what she could ask him for. "Well," she finally says as she looks at him, taps her fingers gently against her coffee cup. "Well, I suppose you could help me with one thing. I bought a new piece of furniture that would be pretty difficult for me to get into my apartment on my own. I can put the furniture together after it's in my apartment but I'd have a very hard time getting it up there on my own."

"And you want me to help you get it upstairs?" He sounds so very amused that she almost blushes at it. She supposes that it sounds very ridiculous. She probably could have asked him for almost anything as a favor but she doesn't have anything else to ask of him. She's not sure why that seems ridiculous in her own head but it sort of does. But she can't see any problem with saying he can help her get the box up to her apartment. It's not as though she's strong enough to bring it up on her own. And he doesn't seem really upset or frustrated by the matter. He merely seems amused so she supposes that's better than nothing. He can sort of see the embarrassment on her face though so he tries not to laugh. Not that he'd be laughing like he was making fun of her. But her shyness about it is what makes him want to laugh. "I can do that. Just…give me the address and I'll help you bring it upstairs." It's a simple thing to do. Why wouldn't he be willing to do something so simple?

"Right. The address." Logically she knows he has no way of knowing where she lived but it takes her a moment to actually register what he said. Once she registers it though she leans down and grabs her purse from where she put it on the floor and takes out the pen she keeps inside, pulls out the little card that's at the bottom of it and writes her address on the back of it, sticks her pen back inside as she holds the card out to him. "It's scheduled to be delivered in two days. If you're too busy though you can tell me and that's fine. I can figure out a way to get it upstairs without you."

"No, it's cool. I'm not too busy." He looks over the card for a moment and then turns it over, looks at the other side, a small smile spreading across his face. "Used my own card to give me the address, huh?"

"It was what was handy."

He sort of laughs, an amused sort of laugh as he stands up from his chair, slips the card into his front pocket and pulls his jacket on. "Well, then I'll see you in two days, Rachel." She barely has the chance to nod before he's turning away and heading out the door. And she has to admit, she's not quite sure why she asked him to come over and help her with bringing the furniture upstairs.

* * *

It's unusually warm the day the furniture gets delivered. And the worst part about that is that her air conditioner isn't working. Not that she thinks she should have to use it in the spring but she can't control the weather and the temperature. But even with the heat Puck shows up- she's starting to think of him as Noah though as she likes the name better but she's trying not to use his real name out loud. He showed up and he carried the box up the stairs. And then he decided that he wasn't going to leave. Instead he was going to help her put the piece of furniture together.

She told him that it wasn't necessary. She insisted she could do it on his own but he said it wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like he had all that much to do besides that. And he said he figured he might as well give her the extra help. It's not as though he can't really help her put the furniture together and it figures that he would be a good guy and do what he could to help. And she protested for a couple of minutes before she finally gave in.

She feels so unkempt moving around in her apartment with the little shorts on and her tank top. She feels silly moving around barefoot in her own apartment which is silly because its _her_ apartment. But she's just not used to having people there when she has cause to walk around without shoes on. But she also tries to be a good host as he puts together the entertainment unit. So she makes sure he's fine, that he has something to drink because with that heat? You need to keep yourself hydrated.

She tries to stay out of his way though. He's putting together the furniture in the living room so she stays in the kitchen as much as possible. She doesn't want to get in the way of him and what he's doing. She knows it seems silly since she's small and she doesn't take up that much space. But she just feels like if she's in there hovering around him that it'll just make working so much harder for him. And besides that it's hard for her to be around him too much. He doesn't really make her uncomfortable or anything. It's not as though she doesn't trust him. She _does_ or else he wouldn't be allowed in her apartment. But it's not about that. Not even in the slightest. It's honestly and truly not about that.

The problem is that he makes her a tiny bit unsure of herself. She's always known exactly who she is and what she's wanted out of life. She's never questioned herself. She's always known that she's wanted nothing more than to just try to search for a guy that she could actually fall in love with. And she always decided that she doesn't want to end up having sex until she's at least twenty-five. She'd rather wait until she has an established career on Broadway before she lets herself submit to the act of physical intimacy.

The problem is that looking at Puck makes her reconsider that. It's not as though she feels like she's going to jump him when she looks at him but she can definitely feel herself starting to wonder if it's really a good idea to keep on waiting. Most people would think she's actually very silly for keeping her virginity intact until a specific age. She wasn't even sure if she could explain why she was so sure she wanted to keep on waiting for sex. She just knew she did. It was just hard to focus on that when Noah gave her that smile of his.

She's been in the kitchen for nearly an hour just waiting, giving him time to finish what he was doing as she doesn't want to get in his way. But sitting in the kitchen is getting boring and she tries her best not to let that show. Still she decides that she can at least go see his progress and she can see if he wants something else to drink. So she takes her legs off of the table she had perched them on, slides off of her chair and makes her way across the cool kitchen floor and back out into the kitchen.

She pauses in the doorway to look at him, or more accurately his back. She's not sure when he took off his shirt but he did and her tattoo is rippling with each move that he makes. She can see it clearly now, a giant tattoo of a dragon on his back. She's never really been interested in tattoos before in any way other than being able to enjoy the artistic quality of them. But there's something about him with that giant tattoo on his back that makes her stomach do this strange flip-flop. He's undeniably attractive, yes, but somehow that just makes him seem even more attractive. And she can honestly say that she didn't think that was possible. But with him kneeling down on her living room floor without his shirt on, this fine coating of sweat on his skin he just looks a thousand times more attractive than he already did to her. So she shamelessly stares even while she tries not to. Because if he catches her staring at him like that? Well, it could be very, very embarrassing.

When he stands up and turns in her directions he knows she's caught. She can't play it off like she wasn't looking at him, wasn't practically drooling over him. She's thankful though she wasn't _actually_ drooling over him when she was looking at him. It would have been even more embarrassing. But all she could do was stand there and try not to blush over the fact that he caught her looking at him like he was this piece of meat she wants to bite into- and that's such a strange analogy for her given that she's a vegan. But it's a really good comparison given the way that she was just looking at him.

She's proof positive that he saw the way she was looking at him when a slow smile spreads across his face. It's not even really a smile. It's actually a combination of a smile and a smirk. And it does something really strange to her. it makes her stomach sort of clench; it makes her get this tingling feeling inside of her that she's not used to getting just by being looked at by a guy. She's felt flattered before, she's felt like guys have found her attractive but she's never gotten that same tingly feeling, that tightness in her stomach. And with the way he's looking at her she has to look away before she turns bright red. She has to look away and reaches up to the back of her neck, lifts some of the strands of hair off of her neck where it's sticking.

"I was just coming in to check and see if you needed anything." It isn't a lie so she doesn't feel bad about saying it. She just feels like it's safer to tell him the truth than to lie. Well, at least about that. She can't lie about that but if he asks her about the way she was looking at him? Well, she can definitely lie about that. Or at least she can try to deny it. She just doesn't want to get to that point. She really hopes that he's not going to ask her about the way she was looking at him. She doesn't hold her breath though. Odds are he's going to ask. She just has to bide her time and keep her hopes up otherwise bad things can definitely happen. Or, well, embarrassing things. The last thing she wants to do is embarrass herself even further than she already has by being caught watching him the way she was.

"I'm just about done here," he answers and she can feel his gaze on her even though she's not looking at him so she can't see it. She just feels his gaze on her almost like its burning her skin. Only she knows it's not burning really. It's making her still feel that same tingling feeling she's been feeling. She can hear him moving closer to her though she tries not to look, keeps on moving the hair off of the back of her neck because she hates the way it feels having it stick there. And besides that it makes it so she's distracted enough that she doesn't turn her head and actually look at him. "Maybe you came in because you wanted to see if I wanted something. But you were watching me."

"I wasn't."

"You were. It's fine. You just weren't exactly subtle about it." He moves into her line of view and she comes face to face with his chest. She has to swallow hard. And she's absolutely positive that he can _see_ her swallowing hard. There's no way he can't see it. "I get the feeling you were looking at me for a reason." Of course she was. She was looking at him the way she was because he's attractive. And she gets this vibe from him that he's the type of guy who knows that he's attractive. Sometimes people like that can be annoying. Sometimes they can be pretty frustrating all told. He hasn't become that frustrating all in all. He's just got this confidence about him that she can't really help but be intrigued by.

His hand goes beneath her chin and he tilts her face up towards him and God, she wants to blush so very badly. She wants to blush a deeper red than she's ever blushed before in her life but she bites on the inside of her lip to stop herself from doing so. She doesn't want to embarrass herself any more than she already has and she knows that if she blushes? Well, she'll just be so embarrassed she'll barely be able to handle it. So she keeps on biting down on the inside of her bottom lip even as his eyes skin over her face, almost like they're drinking in her features. She's not quite sure what to make of it but she doesn't want to ask either. Asking seems like it would be the stupidest thing she could ever do. She's not sure what he's looking for in her face but she supposes that it doesn't really matter all that much. He's simply going to keep on looking her whether he tells her or not and if he tells her? She'll probably blush horribly even if she's biting on her bottom lip to try to stop it.

His eyes do just keep on looking over her face though. And then, almost without any sort of warning that it was going to happen he leans down and presses his mouth against hers. The pressure of his lips against hers is gentle but she can still feel it and she almost gasps into his mouth. And it's like he knows that because against her mouth his lips curve into a smirk. His hand moves away from her chin but just to move it behind her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He tugs slightly so her head tilts back and the pressure of his lips against hers becomes more firm. That feeling, that tingling feeling? It definitely gets stronger and she can feel her stomach sort of clench. And no man has ever made her feel that sort of lust before. She's not sure how she should feel about that. She supposes she should feel odd but she doesn't and _that's_ what makes her feel odd.

His mouth moves away from hers as easily as it had moved onto it and he steps back from her, grabs his shirt from where he had put it on the arm of her couch and pulls it back on. She barely has the chance to process what just happened before he's lifting up a hand to wave goodbye and he's heading out the door. She knows that she should say something to him, that she should at least thank him and say goodbye but he doesn't give her the chance to do so. He's gone before she can say a single word, her door clicking shut behind him.

It's not until he's gone that she realizes he left the card with her address on the entertainment center. She's not sure if it's intentional or not but it's still there. Which means she can still contact him if she wants to though she can't find a good reason to want to. He already paid her back, in a way, for his part in ruining her dress. So, why could she have a reason to talk to him again?

She has this strange feeling she's going to though.

* * *

It's about a week later that she finds herself at the address on the card. It's late at night and she only had the intention of going past the place because it should be closed by then. But the light is still on and she stays there for a couple of seconds just watching the doorway before she moves over to it and looks inside. She tries to open the door but it's locked. And when she sees him stepping back from the door she sees him coming from the back. She's pretty sure he's just coming out to turn off the lights but in the end she curls her hand into a fist and knocks it against the door.

He stops in his tracks and looks at the door, just watches her standing there for a few moments before he moves over to the door, unlocks it and once he opens the door he just steps aside to let her in. as he's closing the door she looks around the office, looks at the single desk and the fact that it's basically empty save for the filing cabinet in the corner. She supposes he doesn't need much of an office. It's not as though he's running some sort of a private investigator business. She supposes he's probably not there very often. But she just keeps on looking around even as she hears the sound of him putting in the security code.

"What brings you here?" She almost jumps at the sound of his voice because it seems so loud in the otherwise empty building. She supposes that sort of makes sense though. There's not much in the building to actually muffle the sound of his voice.

"I wanted to thank you for helping me with the entertainment center. You left before I got the chance to thank you."

"It was repaying you for ruining your dress, that's all." His eyes skip over her and she just looks at him standing there in his usual outfit- his leather jacket and his black wife beater. She's not sure why even the way he dresses is attractive to her. All dark and mysterious, sort of dangerous. Not that she's intimidated by him or anything but he has that dangerous quality about him. Like he could really hurt someone. "Do you want to come upstairs? Have a cup of coffee?"

"Upstairs?"

"My apartment. It's upstairs. It's nothing special or anything. But it's convenient." He motions slightly in the direction he had appeared from. "Or, you know, you can leave." She sort of wants to leave only because she's worried she's going to embarrass herself. She doesn't _want_ to do anything embarrassing. But she feels like she won't be able to stop herself if she stays there. And yet at the same time she doesn't want to leave either. She has this uncontrollable urge to stay around him. And she knows it has to do with the fact that she finds him so darn attractive.

"Coffee sounds nice." She has this strange feeling coffee might mean something else for him but that doesn't mean that she's not willing to take that chance. So she just lets him lead her upstairs. She lets him lead her upstairs to the apartment and she knows that he wasn't lying about it being nothing really special or anything. Its small but it doesn't need to be big for just him. And she knows it must be just him. She doubts he would have invited her upstairs if anyone else lived there.

He tosses his coat onto the back of one of the chairs in the kitchen and she slowly takes her coat off, puts it on the back of another one of the chairs as she watches him move around in the kitchen. He starts to fill the coffee pot with his back to her, the edges of his tattoo moving again and she has this strange, uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch it. She tries to stop herself but in the end she can't. In the end she reaches out and brushes her fingers over the part that's showing on one of his shoulders. The touch is feather light but she simply can't stop herself from actually touching that stupid tattoo. It's ridiculous and she knows that it is. She knows she shouldn't be doing it but, well, by all rights she shouldn't have even gone over there.

He immediately stops what he's doing, turns around slowly to look at her, his eyes skimming across her face. And everything is sort of strangely at a standstill after that. She watches him and he watches her like neither of them knows what they should say or do. Or maybe he's trying to decide what's the best thing to do. She can't be sure. All she knows is that it seems like they're either having a battle of the wills or like he's trying to decide if what he wants to do is the best thing _to_ do. But then he seems to decide all at once. It seems like he knows exactly what he wants to do within the blink of an eye.

It happens so quick she almost forgets how to breathe. He moves towards her, dips his head down, slips his hand into her hair, his mouth slanting down onto hers. The pressure is firm and insistent and she almost feels like she's about to melt into a puddle on the floor. The one thing that assures her she won't fall is his other hand sneaking around to press against her lower back, pulls her closer against him. She knows she should just tell him she has to go home but she can't really bring herself to.

The coffee pot is completely forgotten and she just sort of goes with it, lets him lead her towards the bedroom. Or she assumes it's the bedroom as they move but she can't be sure. Not with the way his tongue sweeps into her mouth, the way it explore pretty much every crevice like he wants to be completely and totally thorough. Her finger knead the back of his neck, almost massages his skin. His teeth bite down on her bottom lip, tugs it slightly until she whimpers into the kiss. And then his hands go down, reach underneath her skirt, just high enough to grip her thighs and then he lives her up, lifts her up and turns them around so that he can sit down on the bed with her in his lap, slide backwards and sort of holds her there in his lap.

His mouth moves down to her neck and her head tilts back, her breath coming out in short bursts. His teeth graze her skin and then he bites down, not hard enough to really hurt her, just hard enough to sting a little bit. Just a little bit but it's a nice kind of stinging. It's the type of stinging that makes her shudder in his grip and he smirks against her neck, closes his mouth over her skin and sucks on the pulse point, her heart beating rapidly and he can feel it against his tongue.

"I don't do this," she manages to whisper though her voice sounds pretty breathy.

"Do what? Hookup with someone you barely know?"

"No…I don't do _this_."

He leans back from her, watches her with his eyebrows slightly furrowed as she sits there in his lap, her eyebrows furrowed just a tiny bit. She tries to clear her mind a little bit though she can't really think all that clearly with the way he had his mouth pressed against hers, against her neck. It's not an easy thing to really clear her mind of. And then he just cocks his head slightly to the side. "Are you a virgin?"

She's not sure why the question embarrasses her. She's never been embarrassed about being a virgin before. And it's not that she's ashamed of that fact or anything. She just feels a little embarrassed that he's asking her just then. Especially with the way that they were just kissing, the way they were just so wrapped up in each other. She feels like if she answers that question it will make her seem really stupid, really ridiculous. "Yes." Lying won't do her any good. If she tells him a lie and they go any further he's just going to figure out the truth anyway so why hide it from him? Even if it makes him stop what he's doing at least she won't have lied and gotten herself into a more embarrassing situation by letting him go further and then her nervousness showing the truth.

"Oh." His hands slide down her thighs so that they're resting near her knees as he continues to look up at her, licks at his bottom lip as though he's in deep thought. "We can stop," he tells her. "I mean, we don't have to do anything more than what we're doing here. We can just keep on kissing or we can go have coffee. It's fine."

She isn't sure why she feels the surge of affection towards him with his willingness to just stop everything and go drink coffee with her but she does. Maybe it's because he seems like the type that doesn't turn down any type of sexual situation that easily- he sort of screams sex. Or maybe it's because she really doesn't want to stop but appreciates that he's willing to stop. And she's sort of floored by the fact that she doesn't want to stop. She had always been so sure that she would stay a virgin until she was twenty-five at least. That she would hold off until she got further in her career. But this one man is making her change her mind. And it frightens her a little but it also thrills her in some strange way. "No," she whispers. "We don't have to stop."

"If you change your mind…"

"I'll let you know." It's sort of like a promise. It's definitely a promise that's made without the words spoken. It seems as though he truly means it, that if she tells him she wants to stop then he'll stop. And she's very thankful for that.

His mouth slants down over hers again and she sort of melts into the kiss. She melts into it and his hands go back to her thighs, his fingers kneading her skin. It's a nice feeling. She enjoys the way his fingers move over her skin, the calloused skin feeling good against her smoother skin. She isn't sure why she enjoys it so much. She just knows that she does. She just knows she sort of can't breathe with the feeling of his skin touching hers.

His mouth separates from hers only long enough for him to tug his shirt over his head and toss it to the side before he kisses her again. Her hands go of their own accord to his stomach, her fingers moving over his skin, his muscles firm beneath her fingertips. They slide up towards his chest, her pinky hitting a little ring in his left nipple. And how didn't she notice he had that there when she was basically staring at his chest in her apartment? She must have been too startled by his being without a shirt to actually notice it then. But she notices it now and it sort of fascinates her almost as much as his tattoo.

She tucks her pinky into the ring and tugs gently, tugs just to see what he's going to do when she does that. He groans into her mouth and she has to admit she likes the sound but she doesn't trust herself not to accidentally tug hard enough to hurt him so she moves her hand away. She waits for a handful of seconds to try to figure out what she should do with her hands. So she just reaches down and slowly starts to undo the buttons of her blouse, plucks each one out of the hole one by one and sort of shrugs the shirt off so it pools on the bed behind her.

His hands move up her back, one hand deftly undoing the clasp of her bra. It's so skilled of a move that she sort of wonders briefly how many other times he's actually done that, how many other women he's had in the same position she's in but she doesn't ask. She doesn't actually _want_ to know. She's sure it will just make her uneasy if she knows the truth. So she tries not to think about it and just shrugs her bra off.

His mouth moves away from hers, pressed against her neck, his tongue flicking out against her skin. And then his head tilts down and she tilts her own head down to watch him. She watches him nudge his nose against her breasts like he's nuzzling her skin. And then slowly, gently he bites down on her nipple, the contact so gentle that she barely can call it a bite. His mouth closes around it and he sucks gently, flicks his tongue over it. She gasps, arches her back just a little bit, his other hand sliding up to her other breast, his thumb brushing over her opposite nipple, his fingers manipulating it until it hardens.

She closes her eyes and bites down on her bottom lip. She bites down and tries not to let out the little whimper that starts to crawl up her throat but it escapes anyway and he sort of smirks against her skin. His mouth moves away from her breast with almost a popping sound and he smirks at her, leans back up and kisses her again and she melts back into the kiss. She's all but boneless against him, so pliable in his hands that she barely has time to register the shock of him changing their positions so that she's lying beneath him on the bed.

His mouth stays on hers for a while and then he leans back just a little bit to watch her. "Don't forget- you can just tell me to stop if you want me to stop. Just keep that in mind, okay?" When she nods her nose rubs against his a little bit. "I'm going to try to make sure that you enjoy this. So you have to trust me, okay? I promise I'll do what I can to make you like this."

"Okay."

"Okay." He smiles a little wider and then his mouth is back on her neck, his hands slipping down so he can unzip her skirt. She has this surge of embarrassment but she can't really help it since she's never been in that sort of a position before. But she tries not to let it show, lets him slide her skirt down over her hips and thighs so that he can toss it aside. She takes it upon herself to kick her heels off and then his mouth moves down, presses feather light kisses down the center of her chest, slowly down her body to her navel. He circles it with his tongue and for a few moments his fingers just stay hooked into the waistband of her underwear like he's waiting to see if she's going to panic and freak-out. When she doesn't though? When she doesn't he slowly tugs them down over her hips and down her thighs, lets her shimmy the rest of the way out of them.

She feels embarrassed instantly though as the last time she was that naked in front of anyone she was a little girl in the bath and that was in front of her fathers which is an entirely different set of circumstances. She has this urge to clench her legs together despite the fact that she can't do that with him between them. His eyes skip up to hers and he watches her like he's trying to figure her out and once he's sure he knows what she's feeling he merely leans down, presses another kiss to her abdomen just below her navel. "You're hot as hell," he assures her quietly. "You don't have to be shy about your body, Rachel. It's great. And you have amazing legs."

She blushes, not at the nakedness but at the compliment though her body relaxes a little bit and she can't stop herself from feeling the warmth of her skin blushing. He presses his body close to the bed, his nose nuzzling along her skin. "Just relax," he whispers against her skin. And she tries. She really does try as she takes a slow, deep breath. She wills herself to stay calm even as he moves her legs further apart so she's exposed to him and she sort of hates that because it makes her feel so very vulnerable.

She can almost _feel_ his gaze between her legs and she has to bite on her bottom lip to stop herself from blushing even brighter. His hands massage her thighs and then one of them slides up slowly, her fingers brushing against her moist folds. She lets out this surprised little gasp that's almost a squeak, her hips arching slightly. She sort of wishes she could hide that she's turned on but she can't. It's undeniable at that point. He can feel it.

"Just breathe," he reminds her and she nods her head even though she's not sure he can actually see it. She doesn't know if he's looking up at her or not. She just tries to relax and lets him do what he thinks he should. Or what he thinks is right. She lets him move her legs so they're basically over his shoulders though she's not sure yet why he's doing that. Not until he buries his mouth against her and she feels his tongue run over her, one long, smooth stroke that makes a moan catch in her throat like its being strangled. His tongue flicks against her clit and she can feel her thighs shaking. "Never done any of this, have you?" he whispers against her.

"No," she confirms.

"Alright. Well, I know what I'm doing. So just trust me." She almost tells him that if she didn't trust him she wouldn't be letting him doing what he's doing except that seems pretty obvious.

He flicks his tongue over her clit again and she moans helplessly, feeling sort of pathetically wonton but she doesn't really have any control over the way her body is reacting. He slides one hand up her thigh, moves it beneath his chin and slowly, almost hesitantly, slides a finger inside of her. She gasps loudly, grips his shoulders tightly in her hands, her nails digging into his skin as he slowly moves his finger in and out of her, his tongue moving over her. She's not sure why its making her head spin but it is.

The strange thing is it feels like that's going on forever. By the time he slips a second finger inside of her she feels like she could go totally insane. Her chest is heaving and she has this sort of fine sheen of sweat coming over her skin and she feels pathetic, sot of squirming around on the bed, breathy moans slipping past her lips. She feels like she's going insane. She can't even process words properly. She thinks she might be saying 'please' and 'stop' or maybe 'don't stop'. She's not sure. She just knows she needs something. She needs release. And she knows he knows by the way her thighs are shaking. His tongue flickers against her clit again and he bites down slightly on it, a little bit harder than when he bit down on her nipple and all at once she feels like she's coming undone.

Her spine arches and her mouth opens. She lets out this breathy moan even as his tongue continues moving over her, his fingers still moving inside of her while she rides out the orgasm, her stomach clenching and her thighs feeling tight like a rubber band about to snap. And he stays there between her legs until her body starts to calm down.

Moving up he presses a kiss to her stomach, then one between her breasts before he kisses her again. And she almost recoils at the taste of herself on his mouth, his tongue but she doesn't. She can't bring herself to do it. She just kisses him back, her hands going to the back of his neck, her fingers kneading his skin, his tongue lapping at her bottom lip. And when he barely leans back to whisper, "Do you want me to keep going?" against her lips she knows the answer before the question is even finished.

"Yes," she whispers against his mouth. He barely nods before he kisses her again, his body shifting just a little bit. She sort of registers the sound of a drawer opening but she doesn't really pay much attention to it. She doesn't even think about it until he's pulling back from her and he's opening the little foil packet he's pulled out, until he's stripping the rest of his clothes off and he rolls his condom down over himself.

For several beats she just looks at him as he leans back over her. And she isn't even sure why she does what she does next but she reaches out and she almost hesitantly wraps her hand around him, squeezes down slightly, strokes her palm over him in one smooth motion. His hips buck and he groans, his head bowing slightly, the muscles in his stomach rippling. She sort of likes the reaction so she does it again.

"If you keep doing that? We're not going to go any further than this." The admission comes out in a growling sort of whisper that sends shivers up and down her spine. But she _does_ stop herself. She does because she doesn't want to make things happen differently than the way that they seem to be going. She has to sort of force herself to stop though because she really and truly likes the way she makes his spine bow and the way his hips move towards her. She sort of likes having that sort of control over him. But she figures he would know better than her what will make things end early rather than later. So she just pulls her hand away from him though she has to stop herself from pouting. She knows she'd look ridiculous if she pouted. "This is going to hurt," he whispers to her. "It'll hurt. And then it won't hurt as much because the worst of it will be over. And after that? After that it'll feel good. I promise. But if you want to stop? Then you can just tell me to stop. Okay?" When she nods he smiles at her, just a little bit. "Okay. I'm going to kiss you now and I want you to focus on that. Just try to focus on that. And you can dig your nails into my shoulders if you have to. But just know I'm going to make this hurt as little as possible."

It's not until he nods that his mouth slants down on top of hers. She kisses him back though she's not sure if it's more because she wants to or because of instinct. She doesn't really care which it is though. The kissing is good. It's a good distraction. The way he brushes his tongue over her bottom lip and the way he nips at it. It's a very good distraction even from him settling himself in between her legs, the way he grips her thighs in his hands. It's a good distraction from her feeling him barely touching her heat. And when he starts to push inside of her and he's not wrong. It _does_ hurt. It hurts and she whimpers loudly into his mouth, she digs her nails into his shoulders. And when her body starts to tense up because of the pain he moves himself the rest of the way inside of her to get that part down as quickly as possible. And he honestly can't stop himself from groaning at how tight she feels around him.

His uses all of his strength to keep himself still inside of her while she adjusts. He presses soft, gentle kisses against her mouth, kneads her hips gently to try to distract her and soothe her. He wants to keep her as calm as he can because the more tense that she is the worse it will be for her. So he tries to soothe her and it's not until she starts to relax that he decides he can move. He knows he has to move slowly though because she's still adjusting a little bit. So his hands grip her hips and he slowly draws himself out of her, moves back in just as slowly, keeps himself at that slow, slow pace, watching her as she starts to breathe a little heavy, her chest heaving just a tiny bit though he's not sure if it's from the physicality of it all or if it's her concentrating on keeping herself calm.

She looks sort of beautiful to him lying beneath him like that, her skin pale pink with a slight blush, her chest gently rising and falling, letting out these little whimpering sounds that she can't seem to hold in. she keeps on watching him like she's afraid to look away, her eyes sort of shiny with lust. And so he knows at least a part of her is enjoying it. Her body is sort of like this strange mass of muscle that he didn't expect because she looks so tiny and fragile despite everything. She just looks like she's concentrating so very hard that he can't help but watch her.

It's not until her hips move against his in a very instinctual way that he knows she's adjusted quite well. Or at least well enough that he can move faster. His hips snap against hers and she let out a strangled sort of a moan, her hips coming back to his, her fingers moving over his shoulders, sort of down his back. His hand grips her thigh a little tighter and he hikes her leg up a little bit so that he can go into her a bit more deeply which just makes her shudder against him. "Fuck." He moans it out as he presses his face against her neck, his breath warm on her skin and at the same time making the sweat that's on her feel cool which is strange but not unwelcome. It actually makes her mewl like a kitten which she knows is odd but she can't help it. She can't help it at all.

His teeth nibble against her skin as he moves his hips faster. He can feel by then that she's close and he's still trying so hard to be gentle with her because he knows it's her first time and if he's not gentle it could still hurt. And he doesn't want to hurt her. He doesn't want to cause her pain or make that all into some kind of a bad memory. The last thing a girl wants is for their last time to be a bad memory, something that they regret. He just doesn't want her to regret it. But he knows that she's close and he wants to send her over that edge. He wants to feel her tightening around him; he wants to get her off. So he leans down and presses his mouth against hers, bites down gently on her bottom lip even as a hand slips between their bodies so he can brush his thumb over her clit.

Her mouth moves away from his, a harsh breath coming out of her mouth. "Noah…" He can't remember ever having a girl use his real name in a situation like that. And for some reason he really likes it. He likes it even more when her nails dig into his skin. And when her orgasm hits her, her toes curl against the bed. She clenches and unclenches around him, her mouth falling open, a sort of strangled moan slipping out of her, her eyes first going wide and then clenching shut as she squirms on the bed. And it's as she clenches and unclenches around him that he feels himself come undone, her hips pressing against his, her name coming out in a soft whisper. His hips still move slowly as he rides out their orgasms, her eyes still closed.

It's not until her body stops shuddering around him that he stills his hips, keeps himself propped up so that he doesn't crush her. He presses a soft kiss against her mouth, nips gently at her skin while he watches her breathing slowly start to return to normal. And he waits. He waits until her eyes open before he sort of smiles at her, rests his forehead against hers. "You okay?" he seems genuinely concerned which she has to admit she appreciates.

"Yeah," she whispers in a breathy voice. "Yeah, I'm good." Her mouth feels a little try as she licks at her bottom lip and it's like he can't help himself. He leans forward and he nips at the tip of her tongue which just makes her shudder again. It's sort of really amazing.

He's gently about pulling out of her because he doesn't want to hurt her. He really doesn't. And he knows that he could hurt her if he's not careful. But she still sort of whimpers and he runs his hand down her side to try to soothe her. She watches him move as he climbs off the bed, she watches his tattoo rippling and she shamelessly watches his rear end as he moves. She has no reason not to. She watches him as he moves to the bathroom which she assumes is to get rid of the condom and then he comes back with a washcloth which he hands to her. For a moment she's not quite sure what he handed her that for but then she realizes she should probably clean herself up. So she cleans herself up with the washcloth the best he can and when he takes it back from her he just sort of tosses it onto the end table, climbs back into the bed with her, gets under the covers and sort of lays them over her, watches her face. He's not an asshole so he just wants her to be comfortable while she calms herself, while she adjusts to everything that happened.

He's not sure why he doesn't seem to mind when her eyes start to flutter shut. He's not sure why he doesn't mind when she falls asleep. He's not usually the type of a person who usually lets a girl fall asleep in his bed after everything but he sort of figures that Rachel is a bit of a rule breaker though he can't quite say why. There's just something about her that calls to him in a way that he can't explain. It's not like he's fallen in love with her or anything. He doesn't know her well enough to actually love her or anything but he likes her. And he's drawn to her. He can't help but be drawn to her. And so he doesn't mind her falling asleep. He actually minds so little that he falls asleep shortly after.

Puck wakes up with the sun shining through the window, feeling fingers trace his tattoo. He's on his stomach and those tiny little fingers move over and over again. It's sort of a nice feeling. And so he turns his head so he's looking at her, sort of smiles a little bit. "Hey."

"Hi." Her smile is a lot shyer than his is and her skin heats up with a little bit of a blush. And it's so adorable he reaches over and tangles his fingers in her hair, leans closer and presses a kiss to her mouth.

"Breakfast?" he whispers against her mouth.

"Huh?"

"Breakfast. Do you want to get some?"

"You offer breakfast to every girl you sleep with?"

"No, you're a first." He kisses her again and then slowly sits up, makes his way towards the bathroom. He's still naked and despite everything that happened the night before she wants to blush. She stops herself though and just watches him, looks at him as he turns slightly to face her. "You can take a shower, if you want. And then we're going to go get something to eat. Sound good?"

"Yeah," she replies slowly as she settles more comfortably beneath the sheets. "Yeah, that sounds good."

The smile he gives her is wicked as he disappears into the bathroom and once the door closes she puts her hands over her face and laughs into her palms. She's got this sort of lovely soreness about her that she has to admit she likes. And no, she's not quite sure what's going to happen after all of this but for the moment she's really not all that worried about it.

But if he's willing to let this go on? Well, she's not about to protest. Actually, the strange thing is she can sort of see herself possibly falling for him which is scary but she wouldn't really run from it. She wouldn't run from it at all.


End file.
